A Quiet Moment
by Bones365
Summary: Hermione and Ron enjoy their first quiet moment after the war.


_A/N: Hello, darlings! I know this has been done a gazillion times, but I hope you like my version!_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing, J.K. Rowling does!_

There was a painful throbbing at the back of her head. Like maybe someone had decided to drive needles into her skull to the tune of her heartbeat. Her neck was too hot. Her shoulders were sore, but then so were her legs and her arms and her back and her front. Even her toes felt sore.

_How can my toes be sore?_ Hermione thought irritably as she tried to wiggle the toes in question. But she didn't even need to ask that. There was no rush of memories, or a sweet, quiet moment of complete bliss before she realized…

No, she was smart. She remembered what had happened the moment she woke up. The second she woke up, even.

She closed her eyes tighter and let the images of the war, the fighting, that horrible tent, Fred, Harry, fangs, and diadems flash through her mind. Finally, Hermione let herself remember the kiss.

As she lay there, she let the sweetness wash over her. She remembered what Ron's lips had felt on hers. How he'd crushed her so tightly to his body, like he'd never wanted to let her go. She even let herself smile a little when she remembered how he'd looked so dazed when they'd pulled apart.

But as soon as she let her lips tilt up in that little smile, she felt immediately horrible. Ron had lost his brother. So many people were gone. Lupin, Tonks… Hermione opened her eyes, trying to push everything from her mind. And suddenly…

Suddenly, everything _was_ out of her mind. She stared at the pale, freckled arm in front of her and focused on retracing her steps after Harry had gone to bed. She'd followed Ron up to Gryffindor tower. They'd stood in front of the staircase for several minutes, neither knowing what to do. It'd been Ron who'd broken the silence.

"Hermione…I don't…I don't want to be alone tonight. You know?" He looked up at her expectantly and her heart had melted for him all over again.

"Yeah." She whispered, and led him up the boys' staircase into his old room. They'd halted just inside the door and taken it in. The beds were still perfectly made, trunks at the ends, tapestries hanging. Ron snorted quietly, nodding at Harry, who had sprawled out over his old bed with his clothes and shoes still on, his glasses slowly sliding off his face.

Hermione had taken pity on him and managed to at least get his trainers off and maneuver him under the covers, placing his glasses on the bedside table before turning back to Ron.

From there, they'd managed to maneuver themselves into the slightly precarious position they were now in. Ron was pressed up against her back, with one arm under her neck and the other slung over her hips. Their legs were tangled and she could feel his breath on the back of her neck, causing it's overheating.

It wasn't unpleasant, though, she thought. Actually, it was quite nice, being held like this, knowing that everything was over and that Ron was perfectly safe and that they'd finally done _something_ about their feelings.

She felt his breath hitch and he shifted his head, coming out of sleep. He unconsciously tightened his arm and pulled her harder against him, nuzzling his long nose against the skin of her neck. She felt the moment he was fully awake, his body froze suddenly against her.

Hermione smirked as she felt him lifting his head ever-so-slightly, could imagine the look of shock on his face when he realized they'd slept soundly in the same bed. She tilted her head to see that look, but found instead that he was staring straight up at the canopy of the four-poster.

"Morning." She whispered, running her fingers over his arm. Her smile had evaporated. It was going to be so hard to move forward from this. How was Ron, or any of the Weasleys going to function without one of their members?

It's true that the family was an ever-changing unit. So many were added into the folds that most people lost track of the Weasley influence. The members themselves, though, never forgot the boundaries of their reach. Everyone, blood-relative or adopted friend, was one of their own. And they did not take loss lightly.

This was like Percy, but so much worse. He hadn't been really gone. Weasleys were for life. He'd come back with gusto. But now…Now Fred was dead. Ron seemed to be mirroring her thoughts.

"What's George going to do?" he asked. His voice was rough with sleep, sounding like he swallowed a handful of gravel. He cleared it and turned his head to blink away tears.

"I'm so sorry." Hermione shifted cautiously so that her body was facing his. "This is…I mean we didn't expect-"

"Yeah we did." Ron interrupted, moving closer to her, but refusing to look at her. "We knew that not everyone was going to make it through this. I…" he broke off and shook his head. His free hand scrubbed some sleep from his eyes and he finally turned his head to look at her. His eyes were bloodshot and she knew that while she had slept soundly for the first time in months, he had not.

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. There was nothing she could do for him. She felt utterly powerless to help him. Ron. This man who'd done so much for her for so long. He'd practically saved her life back at Shell Cottage. Not to mention the numerous times before he'd done the same.

She felt his hand brushing a piece of hair away from her face, and felt ashamed that his touch calmed her so much when she should have been comforting him. She turned her face into his shoulder and wrapped her arm around her waist.

"I'm so sorry, Ron." She repeated, shaking her head. "And I know that sorry won't bring your brother back. But, I don't know what else to say." She blinked up at him and found him looking right back at her.

"Well that makes two of us, then." His voice sounded more harsh than ever, and his eyes seemed clouded with…something. His head lowered to hers hesitantly, like he didn't know if he should be doing this or not.

Hermione didn't stop him, didn't move, could barely breathe. She wanted to kiss him again so badly she thought she might explode. There was a sweet, curling energy building in the pit of her stomach, and she needed to feel his lips again. His kiss was soft. At first, she barely felt the pressure, but slowly, the energy climbed to a peak, and a low buzzing filled her limbs, spreading up to her fingers, and finally sizzling up to her ears, filling her head with nothing but the feeling of Ron.

She wanted him closer, but almost as soon as she'd thought it, he leaned over her, pressing her back against the mattress. Her hand cupped his neck and brought his mouth even closer, increasing the pressure so that she could tilt her head just like that and….

Ron broke away first, breathing a bit heavier than usual. For slow moments, they stayed pressed together like that, their faces close, their lips brushing when one of them took a breath, their noses sliding against each other. Hermione allowed her thumb to wander back and forth across the soft hair on the top of Ron's neck.

Finally, Ron blinked at her. His lips curled up at the corners, just barely. On a day like this, he couldn't find it in himself to smile, but he could give her that. He pulled back to see her face more clearly.

"I like kissing you." He whispered, not wanting to break the quiet around them. The first truly _peaceful_ quiet that they'd had in months. Years, maybe. Hermione smiled fully, almost feeling ashamed for doing so.

"I like it, too." She arched her neck to him, knowing that he'd comply and bend down to kiss her again. This time went much longer, until she felt as if she'd been completely consumed by the lovely burning sensation.

Ron sighed and lowered his body partially on top of her, trying not to crush her, but get as close as possible. Hermione closed her eyes when buried his face in her neck, feeling his breath as she had earlier, loving the moist heat against her throat. They laid there in silence for what seemed like hours, until she felt his breath even out and knew he was asleep. She didn't care that her arm was falling asleep from holding him. She didn't care that she was uncomfortably hot under both him and the sheets. She didn't care that at any minute anyone could walk in and see them like that.

The war was over. There had been losses, it's true, but so many people had made it through, against all odds. Ron had, and Harry. Hermione allowed her eyes to close, but the images flitting across her lids were hard to see. Long nights in the tent, Ron walking away, the chaos of the final battle around her, bodies lined up in the Great Hall, Gringotts, curses, Bellatrix Lestrange.

She took a deep breath. They'd made it. It wasn't pretty, and there was so much left-over to deal with, but they were at least alive. Hermione tightened her arms around him and tried to drift off like he had. She fell asleep listening to the complete, blissful, quiet, and Ron's soft snores.


End file.
